The Whisper
by anakinlove
Summary: The world again finds herself facing a crisis, but this time of her own making. With the threat of war looming, Batman holds the key to peace. But, if he does not discover this in time, Earth will face her doom, not by neuclear fires, but in a whisper
1. Chapter 1

The whisper stayed in the air long after the cultists fled. But the great being they had unwittingly invoked cared not for their absence. It seethed, restless after its long slumber. It remained as only a whisper however, a thing half dead and long forgotten since the beginning.

The darkness that surrounded it rippled with its sheer, immeasurable power and foreword it trod, seeking strength to sate its hunger, to take form. It sensed the world it had entered was different from the one it had left. It understood why it was here. The purge was coming.

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Bruce was calm. Though the hot coals would sear the feet of any normal man, he remained in a state of utter tranquility as he stood upon them, quietly contemplating things. Tim had reached the age of sixteen that day and Bruce felt the time slipping away from him all too quickly.

After the festivities, he had retired to his cave to mull over his feelings. All he found dwelling in his heart that day, was sadness. The boy hadn't yet had a chance to pick up on his feelings. Dick Greyson, his surrogate older brother, had come in from Bludhaven to participate in the celebration of Tim's first steps into manhood, along with Conner Kent, Bart Allen and the others from the boy's team. Oliver Queen had come, dragging along a reluctant Roy, who had been pulled away, allegedly, from some important business. He was pleased, however, to celebrate Tim's special day. Many from the league had come in fact.

Tim's family, Bruce ruminated quietly, stretching his sinuous left leg as far behind him as he could. There was a satisfying crack in his back as he curved it to touch his foot to his head. He gave a grunt and brought the leg back down to match up with its fellow. He liked to think of simply himself, Dick and Alfred as the boy's family, himself being foremost, but gatherings like this were simply a wakeup call. He gave a sigh. There was no point in trying to keep Tim to himself. The boy gave him more joy than anything since the days of Jason Todd so naturally, Bruce wanted to be a little selfish.

He couldn't be though. Tim deserved to shine on his own, without Bruce's interference or any attempts by the older man to keep him smothered. He heard light footsteps coming down the stairs towards the cave and closed his eyes, allowing the heat from the coals to wash over him and cleanse him of any of those depressed feelings. No point in being selfish and upsetting Tim. Bruce wasn't sure exactly how he recognized the footsteps of his youngest, but somehow he did and he was never wrong. Sure enough, Tim's voice filled the cave. "Is everything ok Bruce?" he asked.

"Of course", Bruce said, breathing deeply as he lifted his knee to his chest. He didn't open his eyes, but he could imagine the look of concern on Tim's face.

"I'm sorry I had the party Bruce", Tim said, "I know you don't like having gatherings here." Bruce opened his eyes to give Tim an annoyed look.

"Don't apologize", he said, "it doesn't really matter what I think. This was your day and if you wanted to have a party, that's just fine. I enjoy having them over." That was a little white lie. Bruce didn't like having company. If it had been totally up to him, he would have insisted on a celebration with just himself, Dick and Alfred. But, if Tim wanted a party, Bruce was totally determined to give him the best one there possibly could be. He had enjoyed talking with everyone and the look on Tim's face when Bruce took him into the garage to see the bright red Ferrari he had bought him was absolutely priceless. Tim would have been elated at just getting anything from Bruce, so it was even more rewarding to the older man to spoil him rotten.

Bruce could tell with his eyes closed that Tim was itching to get out with Conner and try out his new ride, but he stayed to make sure everything was ok with his mentor first. It was thoughtful, but unnecessary. "I had a really good time Bruce", Tim said, "thanks so much for the party."

"You had better not go apologizing again", Bruce snapped, "the whole world doesn't revolve around me you know. Today, it revolves around you. Go have some fun, take the car out, go to bars and buy beers with Dick. We all know that's what you really want to do right now, not sit here in the cave and watch me do yoga." He eyed Tim critically just to reinforce what he had said. Tim grinned.

"You know", he replied, "I don't think your parenting books would agree with letting me go out with just my friends."

"Aww, screw those books", Bruce said with a wave of his hands, jumping up so he could flip to perching on one outstretched arm. He spread his legs above his head in a Y to steady himself before bringing them together in a perfect one-armed handstand. His arm quivered as his muscles acclimated themselves to the increased weight. "Go get drunk if you want to", he continued, "but make sure you call me to pick you up if you do though. I'd really rather you didn't get into a crash and die. That would ruin the lovely day I've been having." Tim giggled again.

"Alright", he said, "try not to work too hard while I'm gone."

"Get out of here", Bruce snapped playfully and Tim darted off. "And don't let Dick drive", Bruce yelled after him, "not if you want that Ferrari to remain a Ferrari and not a pile of scrap metal."

"I won't", Tim yelled. Bruce started to flex and pull in his arm, his feet slowly reaching up so that they barely scraped the lowest stalactite and lowering again. Tim was responsible and Bruce wasn't too worried about his safety. Maybe it was stupid to let a sixteen year old with a new car go out driving, but Bruce figured the kid might as well have a little fun.

He pushed off the coals and landed on his other arm so he could work that one. The heat seared his skin, but he didn't even notice. He was too deep in thought.

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Superman quivered as he watched the proceedings. The fate of himself and most of his friends depended on the results of this hearing. J'onn reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, but Superman refused to allowed himself to be lured into the other man's security. J'onn was sure the hearing would go well, But Kal-El wasn't so sure. His eyes shifted from the face of the President to J'onn's, who gave him a small smile. Kal simply gave him a nod and folded his arms.

J'onn, sensing the other man's unrest, quietly moved off, leaving Kal with his private thoughts. "Now Mr. President", Senator Puddles said, "I agree that the League has helped in the past, but this is the present. The world doesn't need heroes any more. We are on the brink of war. They should be helping us fight, not flying around above us."

Superman lifted his top lip in the beginnings of a snarl. But, he bit back his anger. Puddles was the most narrow-minded man he had ever met. If he had his way, every hero in America would be shipped off overseas to amass with the other troops. Though they were on the brink of nuclear war, the US still decided they needed a standing army to back up the threat of the bombs.

Kal had the chilling sensation that he was watching the end of the world unfolding before him. He had contemplated what he might do if the looming threat of war became a reality. He would probably just have to find another planet to live on. Though it pained him to even think of abandoning his adoptive home world, if the earth destroyed herself in war, he would more likely then not survive the ordeal and live to move on to another planet.

He didn't like thinking about it, but it came up more and more these days. Tim's birthday party had been a welcome distraction, but it could only ease his tired mind for so long. Once he was alone again the darkness of his apartment, the chilling thoughts had returned. He ran a hand through his slicked back hair and turned to look at J'onn again before facing the proceedings once more. Puddles frightening words again resounded around the chamber. War, and coming soon.

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Bruce stood on the balcony, which overlooked the garden outback. The flowers would be wilting soon, he thought to himself. The winter's chill would come and with it, death and frost. That's how the world felt right now, on the verge of one very big, very looming winter. He faced the moon and then spoke. "Clark", he croaked, surprised by the hoarse sound of his own voice.

He turned to face his friend, who had a grim expression on his normally pleasant face and was floating a few feet away. "The hearing?" Bruce asked, though already knowing the answer. Clark nodded wordlessly. "Tell me", Bruce said, "what did they say?" Clark gave a sigh and landed on the balcony, his feet making barely a whisper on the pale marble.

"Well", he said, "Puddles gave his speech."

"Dark and gloomy as usual I presume", Bruce said. Clark nodded.

"Lets just say", he replied, "he could make you look like a ray of sunshine." Bruce cracked a small smile at the dry joke and arched his shoulders.

"So…?", he asked.

"Well", said Clark, leaning against the railing, "they've decided not to decide."

"Again?" Bruce asked, surprised, "I would have thought they would have come to some arrangement by now." Clark shook his head.

"They aren't sure. They have to take into account what we've done for them, but also what we are now I suppose." Bruce nodded.

"Bruce", a tentative voice said. Bruce turned to face the sound. Tim was standing in the doorway, the light breeze tugging at his hair. He was nibbling his bottom lip and gazing at his mentor apprehensively.

"Hello Tim", Superman said, "how are you?"

"Fine", Tim said, "thanks."

"What is it son?" Bruce asked gently, his hard features softening at the sight of the boy.

"I just was going to ask for some help with my math."

"Can I help you in a little while?" Tim nodded wordlessly. Bruce gave him a small smile and watched as he went back inside. As soon as he was gone, Bruce heaved a sigh. " Every time you come by", he said, "he figures the world's ending. You only come around anymore when there's bad news to be told." Kal grinned.

"Just call me the angel of misfortune", he replied. Bruce gazed away.

"That boy", he said, "seems like the only ray of sunshine left on earth. What with Dick always busy now and the news. It's like there's a dark cloud over everything these days. But, he's getting so big. I feel like I'm losing him." Superman put a hand on Bruce's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"He's only sixteen", the Kryptonian whispered. Bruce shrugged.

"I know", he said, "and that's what makes me sad. He's worried all the time now too, because of how on edge I am these days. You know, at sixteen, the only things he should be worried about are girls, friends and passing Algebra. He shouldn't have to wonder if his world's going to fall apart or if his mentor's going to have a mental breakdown and end up in Arkham." Bruce heaved another large sigh and then asked softly, "Why does the world always make them grow up so fast?"

"What can we do Bruce?" Superman said, "We can't exactly lock them all away."

"I know", Bruce said, "I don't even know why the government is considering turning against us. We've helped them more than they could possibly know and yet here we are, biting our nails as we watch the television, wondering if this is the last time we legally help somebody. With this war looming, Tim's so scared me and Dick are going to be shipped overseas. I didn't have to heart to tell him that's a likely possibility. Even if I am a little older, they'll probably still take me. They're taking everyone these days."

Superman gazed quietly out at the moon. "What is this world becoming Bruce, what's happening here? It's like everything we've worked for, everything we've built our lives on, is just crumbling around us."

"If nuclear war does happen", Bruce said quietly, "Will you promise me something?'

"What?" Superman asked.

"Just get my boys out", he said.

"They'd never go without you", Clark said.

"Make them", Bruce replied, "I'll remain with Gotham, I have to, but I need to know that they're safe. Promise me you'll get them out in time."

"I promise", Clark said softly, "I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Robin landed almost wraith like on the stone gargoyle. A pebble loosened from beneath one of his boots and fell to the ground, causing a tiny splash in one of the seemingly perpetual stagnant dirty puddles that littered the streets of Gotham. Even in the hottest of summers (and this had been one of those) a puddle could be found somewhere in Gotham. The children avoided them and even the most dehydrated of stray dogs refused to lap water from their depths. They, like many other things in Gotham, had their own kind of iniquity and were understood to be evil in the most primitive sense.

Robin flexed his shoulders and faced the wind, allowing it to tousle his already messy dark hair. Though Alfred worked diligently to give it some feel of form and tidiness, Robin preferred it in its usual erratic nature. He had been sixteen for a week now, but somehow, he didn't really feel it. It didn't seem quite real that he had survived this long, after all he had been though.

Bruce had decided to stay in that night. Superman had come over in the evening to discuss something with him. These days, Clark always looked grim and though he gave Tim a cheerful smile whenever he saw him, the boy could sense the turmoil beneath the exterior of the most optimistic man he had ever known. He had asked Bruce what was wrong, but the older man had given him very little of the details. He would grunt and mention something about war and crises before changing the subject. It didn't seem to be on purpose that he was so evasive, just a simple need to keep from thinking about the facts too much on his own.

Robin licked his lips and sniffed the wind. Exhaust from one of the city's grimy ships was what touched his nostrils first. He mentally went over the roster for ships coming in that day. There were three, one carrying Wayne Enterprises merchandise, one for LexCorps and the last carrying unknown cargo. Batman had told him if he had time, to check the last ship out because the contents weren't listed. He didn't really suspect anything sinister to be on board, since most drug ships listed their cargo as fruit or something else, but never simply, unknown.

More likely, the Dark Knight had said, it was that someone had gotten careless and forgotten to write down what the cargo was. Robin debated weather or not he should go down to the shipyards and check it out. Having to squat in the oil and filth down by the yards for several hours hardly appealed to him, but Batman had mentioned something about a potential secret government project that could be coming in.

That would be worth the layer of grim he would have to scrub out of his hair but, after debating for a moment more, Robin decided that the first scenario was more likely and not to risk having to spend too much time down by the docks. He shot off a cable and swung off in the opposite direction.

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It had been several hours and Robin was planning on calling it a night. He was exhausted and cold. He paused for a moment atop a dingy bar, wondering if he shouldn't perhaps check a few more streets for any crimes, but finally, the thought of the hot shower and warm blankets at home won him over and he turned towards Wayne manor. It had been a successful night and he'd gotten a hot tip on the whereabouts of Killer Croc. He was looking forward to Bruce's praise at the debriefing. Nightwing always complained about debriefing, but Robin enjoyed bring praised for his good work and advice on how to improve what was not as good. He didn't particularly like going out on his own, it was too lonely, but it gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

Robin shot off cable for home just as a scream erupted around the corner. He disengaged the cable and turned on his heel to face this new threat. Leaping across a space between rooftops, he found himself gazing down into an alleyway where a woman was being attacked. She screamed hysterically again and fought to free herself from a man who was holding her arm. Robin sailed through the air and landed directly behind the man.

Normally, this would be the point where Nightwing would spout off a sassy remark, but Robin didn't work that way. However, he didn't even have time to consider it before the man swung around, a gun barrel pointing straight at Robin's forehead, almost as if the mugger had been expecting him.

Robin froze in place, but a look of confusion passed over the man's features, as if this wasn't the person he had thought it was. Robin took advantage of this lapse in concentration and kicked the gun from the man's hand. Then, he leapt lithely over the man's head and landed behind him. His foot snaked out and hit the mugger in the head.

The brute toppled backwards and released the girl, who flew from his grip and landed a little ways away. Robin was about to fly off (never one to stay behind and flirt with a girl, unless she was especially pretty) when he felt a slashing pain in his side. He cried out in pain and turned to face his attacker, the woman he had just saved, who had a knife in her hand.

Robin could see his own blood shining on the blade in the wavering moonlight. He gave her a confused look, but all that was in her eyes was cold, calculated determination. She slashed again at him, but he scrambled up, holding tightly to his side. He shot a cable and flew off, his head reeling, not just from lack of blood, but from the sheer shock of what had occurred. He landed on a rooftop and stumbled, crashing to his knees from the pain.

'Alright', he thought to himself, 'I'm going to have to call Batman.' The wound in his side was deep and biting. The pain was so intense, he almost called out again, but he bit back his cry and ripped off his cape to press firmly against his side. The training he had endured quickly took the place of panic and he knew the first thing he needed to do was stop the bleeding. He pulled out his communicator and pressed the button.

But, the call never made it through because at that moment, the communicator was shot from Robin's hand. It went flying across the roof and toppled off the edge, shattering on the ground. Robin looked up, panicked, searching for his attacker, and just made out a sniper fifty feet away on another rooftop.

He dropped to the hard roof just as another shot zipped over him. The shots then started to come from all sides. Robin rolled towards a corner of the roof and leapt off it. The ground was far below and he braced himself for impact. Pain racked Robin's legs as he landed on the ground below and he rolled instinctively to lessen the impact. The shots rang out around him and he ducked for cover.

Now came a deadly game of cat and mouse as Robin tried his best to evade the bullets. A few of the shots nipped his legs and several buried themselves in his flesh, but he was able to dodge most. The bleeding in his side only intensified as he raced desperately through the alleyways, searching for cover.

Robin paused to catch his breath, but ducked instinctively to one side as a slice of long claws filled the space where he had been just instants before. Now, he had both a sniper and this unknown terror after him. There was a slash to his other side, but he effectively dodged and raced away again.

By this time, he was in so much pain, he could barely think and his breath was coming in short gasps. The unknown slashing thing was hot on his heels and the sniper's bullets continued to erupt above him at odd intervals. This had to stop or someone was going to get badly hurt, a civilian or Robin himself.

Finally, Robin noticed a tiny hole in a corner of one of the buildings. It was so small, he almost didn't think he would fit, but he had to try. He dove into the hole and just barely made it through. For once, he was pleased to be as small and skinny as he was. Panting, he crouched by the opening of the building and peered out. The thing that was pursing him paused in a shaft of moonlight and Robin gasped.

It looked over at him and Robin huddled even more deeply into the shadows. It took a step towards him and then raced off into the night. Only then did Robin release the enormous breath he had held back. But, he stayed where he was, trembling and exhausted. The moonlit figure had only raised more questions and now his mind raced through possibilities. He had seen Bronze Tiger.

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Robin spent a frightening night in the hole in the building. Blood still seeped from the wound and Robin knew it would need stitches. He longed to return home, where Bruce was sure to be worried sick, but each time he got up enough courage to emerge, Bronze Tiger would return, furiously searching the spot where he had lost Robin's trail.

Robin wasn't sure why Bronze Tiger, or anyone from the Suicide Squad for that matter, would be hunting him, but he wasn't inclined to go up to him and ask. He remained crouching in the dirty hovel, bleeding and sweating and waiting for dawn. When the first traces of pink lite the sky, Robin slowly and cautiously crept from his hiding place. He was trembling from the effort and from loss of blood, but he managed to remain standing.

Bronze Tiger had not returned to the spot for two hours, the longest interval since the man had begun hunting for him, and Robin took it as a sign that he had given up the chase. The boy pulled out his gun and shot a cable. He didn't dare go back to his bike, for fear that a trap would be waiting for him there. No, he would just have to begin the long walk home.

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When Robin finally reached the cave, the sky was already brightened by the sun and he surmised it must be close to nine o'clock. He had stuck to the shadows mostly on the way home, but the effort to remain unseen had cost him. The dried blood on his side had cracked and he had started to bleed again. He was dizzy from lack of blood when he finally dragged himself into the confines of the cave.

Leaning against the cool cave wall for a moment, he paused to relax and was just about to trek towards the stairs when he was suddenly swept up into a strong pair of arms. "Ohh Tim", Bruce said, "Ohh my God I was so worried." Tim found himself pressed against Bruce's warm body and closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of finally being safe.

But, the pleasant feelings ended much to quickly as Bruce held his son at arms length, glaring angrily at him. "How dare you not call", he said, sounding furious, "how dare you come back so late. We agreed at latest, three, didn't we?"

"But I…" Tim started, but Bruce cut him off.

"Didn't we?"

"Yes sir", Tim said softly, too exhausted to argue.

"It is nine o'clock Timothy Drake and let me tell you, you are in so much trouble. I even called Dick in from Bludhaven to help me look for you."

"Dick's here?" Tim said hopefully.

"Yes", said Bruce, "and just as worried as I am. We were just about to set off to look for you. Let me tell you right now, you aren't going out for a month at least. I am very disappointed in you. You had better have a good explanation for this." Then, Bruce noticed something wet and sticky on his hand. He lifted it. "You're bleeding', he said. Tim nodded and then fainted.

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When Tim came to, he found himself lying on his side on one of the tables in the cave. His mask and shirt were off. He glanced over and saw Bruce standing with his back to him, measuring something out into a syringe. Tim's head was pounding and the pain in his side was excruciating, but he fought off the urge to go unconscious again. Deciding that something to do would make him more likely to remain awake, he spoke. "How long was I out?"

"About five minutes", Bruce replied, "I was worried." Tim nodded. "You look exhausted", Bruce said, "I suppose you would be after staying up all night and all that blood loss. I'm going to start the stitches in a minute. Dick's coming down here to help me." Tim shivered, thinking about the stitches. He hated stitches, but he knew he needed them.

"That must hurt", Bruce said. Tim nodded and hissed at the effort. He tried his best to focus on the sound of the water dripping from the ceiling or the sound of Bruce's breathing, but neither were distracting enough to give him any reprieve. Bruce glanced at him and, seeing the look on his face, spoke to reassure. "I'll give you something for the pain in a minute."

Just then, Dick came tramping down the stairs. "Alright kid, you'd better have quite a song to sing", he snapped. "You had all of us worried sick about you, you know."

"After this Dick", Bruce said, "lets get his stitches done first." Dick hopped up and sat of the table by Tim's head. He gently lifted Tim's torso onto his lap so he could elevate it and hold the boy steady. Tim increased his breathing rate to fight off the pain at being moved and Dick steadied him accordingly. Bruce gave Tim a shot of painkillers and began the slow process of stitching up the boy's lacerated flesh.

As he worked, Tim dozed lightly, being wakened every so often by a sharp stab of agony the painkillers couldn't quite mask. At least though, he thought to himself, he was safe now, even if it looked like he would be grounded for the rest of his life. "Alright", Bruce said, wrapping the last of Tim's wounds, a small bullet hole, "I finished with the stitches and got all the bullets out. Lets hear what you have to say."

Tim slowly began his tale, stopping every so often to regulate his breathing, since even that took concentration, as he was so weak, beginning with the rescue of the woman and ending with his emergence from the hovel. "So", he said in conclusion, "I figured there might be a trap waiting for me at my bike. I decided it would probably be a better idea just to walk back without being seen, so I did." He gazed up at Bruce. Bruce heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry Tim", the older man said, "I shouldn't have yelled at you without knowing the facts first."

"Wait a second", Dick said, "if I had fed you a cockamamie fish story like that, you would have yelled at me for lying."

"That's right", Bruce said, "I would have yelled at _you_. _Tim_ doesn't lie to me." Dick rolled his eyes.

"I guess you're right", he grumbled, "Anyway, the kid does look pretty beat up. I've seen Bronze Tiger's handiwork before and those slashes look an awful lot like it." Bruce frowned, as if something was still bothering him.

"Now, are you sure it was Bronze Tiger?" he asked.

"Well", Tim said, "it was a little dark and I guess it could have…" But Dick cut him off.

"He's sure Bruce", Dick said, "he was sure before you asked him and if you keep asking, he's going to start doubting himself."

"Well", said Bruce, "I just can't believe the Suicide Squad would be involved with something like this." But, there was something else in his eyes, something that seemed to say there was more he was worried about then just the Suicide Squad and Bronze Tiger.

"What is it Bruce?" Dick asked, picking up on the familiar glimmer of apprehension and self-doubt in his mentor's eyes.

"Nothing", Bruce said, "anyway Tim, you'd better let Dick carry you upstairs. I'll call in sick for you and you can sleep for the rest of today, tomorrow as well if I think you need it. You certainly have been through hell."

"Am I…am I still grounded", Tim asked hesitantly. Bruce smirked.

"No", he said, "your story is more feasible then you might think, so I'm going to let you off the hook. You've been through enough anyway."

"Thanks Bruce", Tim said, sitting up slowly.

"I'm just glad you're safe", Bruce said, putting his arms around the boy once more. He held him tightly for a moment before releasing him and holding him at arms length. He gazed at him, as if relishing in the sight of him alive and well. Tim smiled at him and then started to stand up, but Bruce put a hand on his chest. "No", he said, "let Dick carry you."

"I can walk", Tim retorted, "I'm capable of doing some thing's right."

"Of course you can", Bruce said, picking up on the boy's hurt pride and acting accordingly, "but you know I don't do stitches all that well and I don't need you splitting them by putting too much strain on them. I wish Alfred had been here to do them, but he's still off visiting his friend in England and he won't be back until tomorrow. Dick'll carry you."

Bruce could tell by Tim's manner that the boy was feeling guilty about what he perceived to be his own failure that evening and ashamed of himself. Tim was always so sensitive about pleasing his mentor and any failure on his part was considered by him to be exceedingly grave. Bruce sought to reassure him.

"You did fine tonight", the older man said soothingly, "don't beat yourself up. Bronze Tiger is a difficult man to fight and if snipers were surrounding you, certainly I can see no other alternative for you than to run. Your safety is my highest priority. I'm proud of the way you handled yourself." Tim's eyes shown at this complement, which settled him enough to permit Dick to pick him up.

"Sure", said Dick, " and whilst I carry Prince Timmy up the stairs, he can inform this lowly commoner of his mystical powers and how I can get some of my own." Tim cocked his head.

"Mystical powers?" he asked.

"The powers you have over Bruce to make him believe everything you say, no matter how ridiculous it sounds." Tim grinned.

"You just have to be born special like me."

"Ohh well", Dick said, "dost my ears deceive me? I seem to be detecting a hint of that Princely ego of yours coming out. Being dropped down the stairs could help with that problem my liege." Tim rolled his eyes as Dick bowed low and mocking before him. He then picked the younger boy off, shifted his weight a bit in his arms, and started towards the stairs. Tim gave an easy sigh of contentment and leaning his head against Dick's shoulder. It was good to be safe and he couldn't wait to snuggle under his covers and fall asleep. It wasn't often he got ample time to rest and was looking forward to a day in bed. It was almost worth being injured.

"I'll come up to get you settled in a little while", Bruce said, "no walking until I give you the go ahead. Consider yourself bedridden until you get those stitches out." Tim grinned at him from Dick's arms and gave a slight hiss as his older brother took the first step out of the cave.

"Sorry buddy", Dick said gently, "I'll try and walk a little slower for you." Bruce sat down at his computer and started to work. He needed to find out why the Suicide Squad was in Gotham and more importantly, if the trap Tim had unwittingly stumbled into what he suspected it was, really meant for him. What was Waller planning now?


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce shifted from one side to the other, trying his best to get comfortable. He heaved a sigh and gazed up at the ceiling. The moon sent dappled shadows over the wall, casting them in a beautiful light. But, it was dark, still much too dark. Bruce felt such weariness, he was surprised he wasn't still deep asleep, but he couldn't remain still. The moment felt pregnant, as if something was about to happen, something that would change things.

In the end, the weight of expectancy drove him from beneath his covers. He shivered in the chill and wrapped his robe around himself. Bruce padded silently from the room, hoping that a small walk around the manor would quiet his mind a bit. He moved about, draped in silence and shadows for some time, yet still obtained no peace. If anything, the restlessness increased. The night felt bursting, as if something incredible was about to occur.

He pushed the strange anticipation away, however, and moved through the house back to Tim's room. Silently, he slipped inside and gazed at his son, slumbering beneath the covers. The nights were beginning to cool, due to the coming of the end of summer. Fall was swiftly approaching, carrying with her a chill, as if heralding the dawn of winter.

Bruce liked the winter though. The thick layer of snow Gotham always received helped cover things up, like dirt and grime and filth. Blood stains and graffiti, it covered those things up too.

It clothed Gotham like a virgin, masking what she truly was. Many called Gotham a slut, open to any criminal she could fit in her back alleys and dark streets, but Bruce could see her virginal beauty when she was clothed in white from the heavy snow. It also didn't hurt that the frostiness deterred most villains and heavy snowfalls made tracking much easier.

Tim shifted his weight and gave a little mew. Bruce went ridged, alert to the boy's distress. But, he needn't have bothered. Tim slid easily back into quiet slumber and Bruce gave a small sigh of relief. Yet, though watching his youngest sleep normally soothed him, it did nothing that night to ease his restless spirit.

Bruce began to quietly move towards the door, deciding it would be best if he simply went out. Stopping a crime or two would do much in the way of quieting his mind. He had almost made it to the doorway when a sleepy voice broke through the darkness. "Bruce?" Bruce paused, wondering if he should answer or just let the boy sleep. Coming to a decision, he turned around and spoke.

"Yea, It's me Tim." Tim slowly raised himself up on his elbows and squinted through the darkness at his mentor. The moon was half full that night, in the process of waning and the light from it was wavering at best.

"Whas wrong?" Tim murmured, his speech slurred slightly by exhaustion. Bruce grinned at the sound of his tired voice, which held for him so many memories of late nights and the soft noises a child makes when they are falling asleep, and moved up to sit on the boy's bed.

"Just came in to watch you sleep for a bit, but I'm still a little jumpy so I think I'll head out and stop some bad guys."

"I'll get dressed", Tim said, assuming he was expected to accompany.

"No, no", Bruce replied, "Just get some rest. I won't be gone long. Just need to get out for a bit. You don't need to come."

Tim nodded, his eyelids drooping and muttered, "Well, have fun." Bruce grinned at him again and, in a surge of paternal affection and a sudden feeling of swiftly passing time, put his arms around the boy. Tim gave a little wispy sigh, like all was right with his world and snuggled his head into his mentor's shoulder before closing his eyes. He rested against him, the peace of the moment sending him even deeper into the layers of sleep that threatened to overtake him completely.

"Whas this for?" Tim yawned.

"I don't know", Bruce said, "it just felt right."

"Whatever", Tim murmured, "I'm going back to sleep. I'll sleep up against you if ya want." Bruce almost took him up on the offer, but reconsidered, despite the peace Tim's steady, deep breathing would bring to him, there was a strange stirring in his soul, which tugged at him to meld with the night once more.

"No, no", he replied, gently lying the boy back on the bed, "I'm fine, you get some rest." He gently arranged the blankets around his son just the way Tim liked them and moved to get up.

"Nigh Bruce", Tim mumbled.

"Night kiddo", Bruce replied, and kissed his forehead. Then, he crept out.

Bruce was almost trembling with anticipation as he trekked down the stairs to the cave. Something was about to happen, he could just feel it. He suited up with barely a whisper and was about to hop in the car when he heard a voice. "Master Bruce?" Bruce almost cried out in frustration. The moment was coming, the climax of that night, and he was going to miss it.

"I'm here Alfred, I was just going to go out for a bit."

"Ohh", Alfred said, a flickering candle held in his wrinkled hand illuminating his tired, apprehensive face, "I thought it might be some interloper in the cave. Well, shall I wake up Master Timothy?"

"No", Bruce replied, "let Tim sleep. I won't be gone long."

"I hate to let any of you out of my sight by yourselves for even a moment after the dreadful thing that happened to Master Timothy just a little while ago. Do be careful not to walk into any traps."

"I will Alfred", Bruce said, "I mean I won't. Walk into any traps that is. I have to go, I'll be back soon." Alfred nodded, the anxious expression not leaving his face. Obviously, the aged butler didn't sense what was happening that night, whatever that was. Batman jumped into his car, stamped on the gas, and sped away into the darkness.

The night air purged Bruce of any remaining traces of his lassitude. As he swung swiftly across the city, having abandoned his car a block back, he wondered what exactly he was approaching. But, something inside him, deep within, spurned him towards this unknown spot on this seemingly unremarkable night.

If Batman had believed in the occult, he might have thought he was possessed. The call to the location towards which he was traveling grew more frantic and stringent with each passing moment and Bruce could no more keep from heeding it then he could fly, though that night he almost felt if he let go of the rope, he would simply soar like the passing flock of birds.

Batman soared through the night like that for which he was named and landed lightly on one of the small pharmacies by the park. He dropped to the ground as lightly as a specter and glided down the street and through the trees.

But, once he entered the grounds of the park, it was almost as if he had passed over some invisible threshold. Batman looked back is if to reassure himself there was no wall impeding him from returning to the street. There seemed to be no physical forces keeping him isolated, but something much more profound, which kept him veiled from the rest of the world. It was the same thing that drove him still deeper into the confines of the park.

Though there was obviously some great presence hovering over his seemingly commonplace surroundings, Batman almost felt as if he were being invited in. There was no sense that he was infringing upon something. He knew that this great thing, whatever it was, he was meant to see.

Finally, he reached the spot. The stirring in his soul urged him to stop now and he gazed, trembling, through the heavy darkness. Something was occurring in the trees, but he didn't dare get any closer. Then, a great light erupted through the brush. It was so dazzling, Batman had to shield his eyes.

But gradually, the light lessened and he gazed hungrily at it. It was the whitest thing he had ever seen, so brilliant he had to squint at it. There was something within in it and gradually, it began to take form. Batman's eyes probed the light desperately, seeking understanding. Whatever this thing was, he was sure it was the key to everything, whatever everything was.

He felt the anticipation of the moment weighing down on him more and more and it seemed as if his soul was singing out in joy. The thing, whatever it was, had almost emerged from the light when a loud ringing interrupted Batman's state of utter rapture.

He tore his eyes away from the coming light and looked down. The emergency signal on his communicator was ringing. Batman pressed the button, to answer, all the while desperately wishing to return to gazing at the light. "What?" he snapped.

"Batman", he heard a frantic voice say.

"Nightwing", Batman asked, "what is it?"

"You need to get back to the manor", Nightwing said, "something's happened."

"What?" Batman asked, fear rising in his throat, the image of an injured Tim being the first thing that came to mind. For that moment, the light was forgotten.

"Just get back", Nightwing said, "it's Clark. I can't explain, but hurry" Batman jammed the communicator back into his pocket and glanced up at where the light had been. It was gone, almost as if it had never been and the world lost the spectral aura that had hung over it just moments before. Batman wondered if he had imagined the entire experience. But, whatever was going on with Clark, Batman needed to be there. He was needed.

00000000

Kal El shook violently. His whole body was on fire and pain exploded like bombs in his brain. He couldn't get up, he could barely move. He felt as if all the strength had been siphoned out of him. His cheek was pressed firmly to the earth and blood pooled next to his head.

Blockbuster stood over his defeated, growling and snarling. He pushed Kal's head even harder against the earth. Kal felt as if his skull might burst. He had been beaten, ground into the earth and stepped upon like an animal. The pain of his defeat outweighed the physical agony, but not by much.

Kal El had been ambushed, taken completely off guard and now he paid dearly for his folly. The rest of the Suicide Squad growled and snarled their amusement and egged the great monster Blockbuster on, urging him to finish his opponent. Kal sought the relief unconsciousness would bring, even if he knew he might never get up again.

Then, there was a buzzing sound and Blockbuster was knocked backwards. He gave a feral snarl and worried frantically at his shoulder, giving pained animal sounds. Kal saw a batarang sticking out of the monster's arm. He almost smiled.

Three seconds later, there was a pair of black boots an inch from his Kryptonian nose. Kal was not used to being level with those boots and on a normal day, would have resented the domineering stance of their master, but today, the sight was welcome.

Batman knelt down. "Do I always have to bail you out?" he asked almost playfully, masking the great fear that fluttered freely over his heart.

"Only on Tuesdays", Kal grunted, trying to keep the mood light, for his sensed his friend's anxiety over his condition. Kal was unsure of his own vitality as well, but he'd be damned before he told Batman that.

"It's Thursday", Batman replied gruffly and gently helped the other man to his feet. Kal staggered upward, leaning heavily on Batman. The Dark Knight brought his friend back a little ways from the aggressors, who were snarling at him like a pack of wolves. Batman snarled back in his own way, and they fell instantly silent. Not even Blockbuster stepped foreward to reclaim his prize, the Kryptonian he had vanquished.

As soon as Batman reached the other side of the rooftop, on which the battle between the beast Blockbuster and the world's strongest man had ended, hands came out, relieving Bruce of his burden. Kal leaned on J'onn and Diana.

The whole league was there, gazing murderously at a group on the other side. It was almost as if there was an invisible line across the world, separating the good from evil, though each group deemed themselves the former.

The Suicide Squad crouched, quietly prepared, to the east, backs to the sea, which stretched out behind them in a rippled expanse of dark blue, reflecting the stars on that windy night. The Justice League stood across from them, the moon casting their flanks in silver light, giving what little illumination it could. It was at half strength, as if it were at odds on which side to take, the light or the dark.

At the head of the Squad stood the President, eyes dark and cold, with Senator Puddles to his left and Lex Luthor and Amanda Waller to his right. The Secret Service stood behind them, dark sunglasses glinting dully in the pale moonlight and muscles flexing beneath tight dark suits.

They faced the league, arms folded and body language betraying none of the anticipation they felt. The group to the east waited in silence for Superman's heavy breathing to subside into the small, unhurried gasps of a man who has just caught his breath and for someone to speak. Batman stepped foreward Nightwing and Robin at his flanks to either side.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked angrily, trembling with barely suppressed rage "This was an unprovoked attack."

"The answer you seek may not be to your liking", Waller replied mysteriously. Superman let out a racking breath behind Batman, which caused the Dark Knight to stiffen with anger.

"Well", Nightwing snapped, stepping foreward to stand beside his mentor, "You've got us, now what do you want?" His long dark hair bellowed behind him in the wind and he stood, proud and angry, chest puffed out and arms folded in ridged immobility.

"We don't want to talk to you", Lex sneered. "It's Batman we mean to have this discussion with, the whole league in fact, but not you C listers. Batman, you really should teach your children their place."

A more juvenile Nightwing would have sprung up at the insult, but the young hero simply held his ground, gazing murderously at Luthor. Somehow, this seemed to disquiet the bald businessman turned criminal, as if he had expected more tempers to flare. The league, in the test to see whose cool would break first, had won a point.

"What are you even doing here slime ball?" Robin said, "Shouldn't you be rotting in a jail cell with Clock King and the Human Eraser?" Lex curled his upper lip in disgust.

"Full presidential pardon boy, and I suggest you speak with respect towards your new Secretary of Defense." Now, everyone's eyes turned towards the President, who gazed frostily in their direction, giving off no hint of emotion.

"We have officially declared war on Bubbula", Senator Puddles said, "and Luthor is the best man to handle this. Times are changing Batman." Nightwing flexed his shoulders and Robin cracked his knuckles. It was obvious what the Bat clan was saying. They were ready for a fight, if it came down to that. Batman glanced at them, but then returned his gaze to the President and the others.

"What does that have to do with this unprovoked attack on Superman? I happen to know exactly what went down. I watched the security tapes."

"Of course you did", Waller replied smoothly, as if she expected no less from the Dark Knight Detective, "But to answer your first question, we required your attention."

"Odd way to get it", Flash said, stepping foreward to stand next to Nightwing.

"My attention?" Batman asked.

"The league's", Waller replied, "at first, we tried simply to capture you, but obviously, that plan fell through." So, Batman thought to himself, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. The trap Tim had stumbled into had been meant for him. The unmarked cargo ship had ferried the Squad to Gotham.

"From what I heard", Batman replied coldly, "Robin certainly gave Bronze Tiger the run around. He didn't even get close. Guess your squad's losing its edge, that or my boys are just too good for you." Robin cracked his neck and Bronze Tiger snarled, bristling at the insult.

"I had that little whelp in my claws", he growled, "I would have murdered him right then and there, that would have gotten your attention all right."

"Why the need for a show of strength", Diana asked, stepping foreward to stand next to Robin.

"To prove to you that we can take you down any time we want", Lex sneered, "we just let you float around above our heads and play god, but no more. This is war now and you've just been enlisted."

"Why not just bomb them to kingdom come", Aquaman asked darkly, "that seems to be what you want to do anyway."

"Well", Senator Puddles said, stepping foreward slowly, "we feel now as if dropping nuclear missiles might not go over well with some people."

"Hardly", Animal Man sniffed, "especially since Bubbula holds the largest population of refugees in the world right now."

"Yes", said the President, finally speaking, "it's their ploy to get world sympathy, but they're a threat and they must be dealt with accordingly. That's why we need some heroes, undercover of course, going in among our soldiers as a special opps team to take out Bubbula's defenses from the inside."

"We want the heavy hitters like Superman to stay in America while some of the lesser ones go in and topple the government. We want this operation done quickly and effectively as possible. The more American lives that can be spared, the better."

"Why not just send your squad?" Black Canary asked.

"We need them here", Waller said simply. The two groups stared at each other for a moment in silence, as if sizing each other up. Waller was the most comfortable in the tense surroundings because she knew she had the least to lose of them all and took pride in this.

Crisis was her business and the government always turned to her when there was an especially big one. The bigger the problem, the longer she would remain in favor. She could tell that Luthor, though cool and collected on the outside, was like a skittish race horse chomping at the bit being this close to Superman but unable to end him like he so badly wanted to.

Waller sneered at that kind of obsession, that kind of weakness. She had no such hang ups with the league. Sure, they had had their differences, but in the end, she had ousted them from her mind as a problem. She was strong. But, it was her business to end this crisis quickly, for the good of the country and the good of the American people.

She glanced over the league before her and her eyes fell on Batman and his team. He had two agents with him now. Every one else called them the clan, but Waller saw them more as employees and Batman the boss. She was unsure of his personal feelings for them, but now might be a good time to test that. Now, it was time for Waller to make her move.

"We don't want Superman", she said, "In fact, we don't want most of you."

"Who do you want?" Batman asked.

"You", Waller replied.

"Impossible", Batman snapped, "Gotham needs me to remain here."

'I think your…clan, as I believe they are referred to now, can take care of that just fine. We need you to lead our strike force."

"No", Batman said simply, "we're done here, come on boys."

"Now hold on", Luthor said, "not so fast. You see, we aren't asking you to do this, we're telling you. If you don't follow what we say, there could be consequences, grave ones." Batman's eyes narrowed.

"Is that a threat", he sneered, "I hardly think you're in any position to threaten me. I'm not just like a shadow you know, I am the night. I can melt away and you'll never see me again."

"You might be that good", Luthor replied coolly, gazing at his nails, 'but how about them?" He indicated the rest of the league. "We could make their lives very…difficult." Batman glared angrily at them.

"I'm…Not…Going", he said, "let me make that very clear to you."

"Ohh but Batman", Waller replied, "I think you are." The Suicide Squad seethed restlessly behind here, as if threatening the others simply by their motion.

"Your Robin", Luthor said, indicating the boy, "he works with the Teen Titans, doesn't he?" Nightwing moved closer to Robin protectively. Luthor noticed the movement and gave a pleased smile. He had hit a pressure point. "Those kids are pretty easy to find, aren't they? That big T shaped tower and all."

If Batman's glare could get any darker, Waller was sure at that moment that it did. She knew what was coming. Everything was falling into place. Batman stood strong and proud, refusing to budge. The Suicide Squad raised themselves up on their haunches, ready for a fight. Muscles rippled and hides bristled in the moonlight as each side prepared for the seemingly inevitable conflict.

But suddenly, a small voice spoke from behind the crowd. "I'll go." All eyes turned towards Robin, who drew himself up to full height at their gaze. "I'll go in his place."


	4. Chapter 4

Batman stood gaping at his son for a moment before finally gaining his voice. "Absolutely not", he said, "that is completely out of the question." He gazed at Tim as if the boy was crazy, but the resolution in Tim's eyes didn't falter. He had come to an understanding; something he knew would hurt Bruce deeply but had to be done.

"Actually", Lex said smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue as if they were oiled, "I like the idea. We can have the boy go in your place. If you are so sure about his ability, it should be no problem sending him overseas. It's a chance for him to see the world, after all, experience new things, meet new people."

"You're talking like you're sending him on a pleasure tour", Flash retorted incredulously, 'this is war he's going into. He's sixteen."

"I think it could work", Waller said, her heart fluttering with the joy of a plan well executed, "he could do things other's couldn't, go undercover where many can't. I think it is totally appropriate."

"Hmm", Senator Pickles muttered slowly, "I'm not sure what the public would think of this."

"But if we kept it a secret", Lex said, pressing his advantage. The Senator had not been in on Waller's plan in the first place and it was Lex's job to get him to play along. 'Easy as pie', the Secretary of Defense thought to himself, he played people like he played any other game, quickly and effectively.

"It is for the good of the country", the President spoke tentatively, slowly rolling over the implications in his mind.

"No", Batman said, resolve and vigor spawning to new levels as the words leapt from his mouth, "he's not going. I forbid it. He's my son and he's not going to go and get himself killed in a war we shouldn't be fighting anyway. I see exactly what you're doing here. You all have been against us and our kind from the start. Well, this madness ends here and that's final." He glared at the Squad, the President and the others like an angry bull, seeming to grow in size with his rage.

"Bruce", Robin said softly, "so that only his mentor could hear." The detective turned his head to face his youngest son.

"I have to go", Robin said softly, "it's the only way."

"No", Batman replied stubbornly, "you're not going off to get blown up in some godforsaken jungle all alone." Even as they spoke quietly together, the League and the Squad faced each other belligerently again.

"Are you all insane?" Hawkman asked, "Sending a young teenage boy to do a soldier's job?"

"He's a US citizen", Luthor replied, "And we can send him wherever we like."

"If you do that", Aquaman replied, shouldering his trident, "you might just have yourself a war on two fronts."

"Bruce", Nightwing said, coming up to his side and taking his mentor's hand, "come on." He led the Dark Knight Detective to the corner of the rooftop where they would have at least a semblance of privacy. No one noticed their absence for even as they ghosted into the shadows, arguments deteriorated into insults and the two crowds seethed with blood lust and battle cries.

"Tell him Dick", Batman said, "tell him how crazy this is." Robin looked up at Nightwing, as if expecting him to suddenly go into a tirade as his mentor had done. But, Nightwing's eyes held a dark resolve and he trembled when he spoke.

"It makes sense."

"What", Batman yelped, "you agree with him going off alone to get killed? Why are we even having this discussion? He's not going and that's final."

"I don't think he should go alone", Nightwing said, "which is why I've decided to go with him." Robin looked up at his older brother in surprise, but Batman simply gazed at the two of them like they were mad.

"You think losing two sons rather than one would make this better?"

"Bruce", Robin said softly, "I can handle myself."

'It's not a question of that", Batman replied, putting a hand on his shoulder, "war is bloody business. I don't want to go because there's a good chance I would be killed and then what would happen to Gotham? It's not that I don't have faith in your abilities, which are substantial, but I can't bear the thought of you getting yourself killed. I wouldn't let Nightwing go either if I had my way, but he's an adult and unfortunately, he can make his own decisions."

Batman glared at his eldest, as if just by the force of his look he could coerce the young man into gaining some sense. Nightwing returned the gaze coolly. He had been on the receiving end many times and though villains quailed at the sight of it, Batman's most loyal follower simply felt sadness.

"I face death every night", Robin said stubbornly.

"That's different", Batman replied, "I'm there with you."

"Bruce", Nightwing said gently, putting a hand on his mentor's arm, "if Tim doesn't go, it's going to force the league into a war we can't handle. More people will die. Let Tim and me go and we'll be back soon." Bruce turned away angrily, facing the moon. It shone, big, bright and impassive. He hated to admit it, but his sons' words made sense.

"Bruce", Robin said, "all my life with you, you've mollycoddled me and protected me and I liked it because it's your way of showing that you care about me. But, give me a chance to prove myself to you, to show you that I've taken your training and done something with it."

"You've never needed to prove yourself to me son", Batman replied softly, still facing the moon.

"Then give me this chance to prove something to myself." Bruce gazed at him and then at Dick. The heaviness in their eyes, especially Dick's, whose gaze was usually so carefree, almost tore him apart, but their words rang true and ran deep. He heaved a great sigh and faced the two groups, which were still bickering and throwing insults back and forth.

"They'll both go", he said loudly. Yet even though his voice was simply one among a hundred, it cut through the now silent night like a knife.

Tim couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned and gazed up at his ceiling. Deciding some hot chocolate might calm his tired nerves, he slide from his bed and padded as quietly as he could down to the kitchen.

He passed by the room Dick was staying in that night. Bruce had insisted that since the boys were leaving in the morning, they would need to be together for one more night. But, it had not been a happy evening. For even though Bruce understood why the boys had to go, it didn't make him any less angry or hurt that they had sided against him.

Tim knew this and though it broke his heart, he stood by his decision to leave. The evening had been spent sitting together in the living room with Alfred bringing them an occasional drink. Few words were exchanged and even fewer glances thrown towards any other person. Each stayed in his own private thoughts until they began to amble slowly off to bed.

Bruce had been the first, his anger exhausting him to the point of where he simply wanted to sleep it all away. Perhaps it was for the best, Tim thought to himself as he crept down the dark, ornate staircase, that they hadn't talked. It wouldn't do for them to have thrown insults at each other right before the boys' departure.

The reality of what he had just agreed to, had crashed down on Tim a few hours earlier that night. He might never come back. The thought of never seeing Alfred or Bruce or Dick again was frightening, but he didn't dare tell Bruce that. Though the comfort of those strong arms on this cold night would have been wonderful, showing fear in the face of the coming conflict might convince Bruce to go back on his decision to allow his sons to go.

Tim had no intention of leaving without at least Bruce's begrudged approval, though he might have to if the problem arose. He didn't think about that though. He focused on walking to the kitchen, that simple motion allowing his mind to rest from heavy thoughts.

He was surprised, when he arrived, to find the light already on. Skulking cautiously in, he was confronted with the sight of Bruce gazing philosophically into a cup of something hot and steamy while leaning against the bar. Tim backed up and was about to return to his room when Bruce spoke.

"Couldn't sleep?" he quarried softly. Tim, seeing no way out, returned. He nodded and sat down at the table. "Did you want something?" Bruce asked, without looking up from his mug.

"I just came down to get some hot chocolate. Helps me sleep." Wordlessly, Bruce moved towards the refrigerator to get the milk out. Tim watched as he heated it and poured it into a mug before adding the chocolate and mixing the contents. He did all this slowly, as if each action required a large amount of consideration on his part.

Bruce handed the mug to Tim, who nodded gratefully and took a sip. The warmth flooded him immediately and he closed his eyes, allowing the steam from the milk to heat his face pleasantly.

"Are you frightened?" Bruce asked softly. Tim looked up, but Bruce still wasn't looking at him. He hadn't looked at him since Tim had entered the kitchen. Though it was against his better judgment, Tim's conscience forced him to answer truthfully.

"Yea", he muttered softly in the direction of his cup, lowering his head so that his nose was an inch from the creamy milk. Bruce gave a sigh. There was ten minutes of silence as both emptied their drinks. As soon as Tim was done, he got up slowly. He hated the feeling of strain between himself and his mentor. His relationship with Bruce was always so easy, but not this. This felt so different and Tim couldn't take it anymore. He started to walk out.

"Son", Bruce said softly. Tim stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Yes", he asked.

"Face me", Bruce instructed. Tim pivoted towards him. Bruce had two tears in his eyes. He put down his cup, strode foreward, and put his arms tightly around Tim. He held the boy close for the longest time, neither of them moving or saying a word but each clinging as tightly to the other as they could manage. The tears never fell.


End file.
